Hoops
by themidnightstar
Summary: Don is putting together a basketball team and Charlie wants to join. Fluff. Set in Season 1. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Numb3rs or any of the characters.

"What about Charlie?"

Charlie looked up from his notes at the sound of his name. "What about me?"

Charlie was sitting at an empty desk in Don's office, reviewing the FBI's work on a fraud case for Don. It was evening and most of the staff was gone. He'd heard an agent walk in and start talking to Don, but he hadn't paid much attention to their conversation until he heard Don's comment.

Looking over at Charlie, Don explained, "Charlie, this is Alex Russert. He's organizing a couple basketball games for the department. Maybe see if there's enough interest to start a league."

Charlie rubbed his hands together, liking the idea immediately. "So? What about me? Do I get to play?"

Turning back to Don, Alex Russert crossed his arms over his chest and challenged, "Is he good?"

"Am I good?" Charlie repeated incredulously. "I'm like, the king of basketball."

Alex looked at Don for confirmation.

Don stated simply, "He can play. On my team."

Inwardly, Charlie groaned at Don's less than enthusiastic support. Well, if his brother wasn't going to talk him up, Charlie would have to do it for himself. He waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, don't listen to him. I'm really good!" Charlie insisted.

Instead of responding to Charlie, Alex addressed Don again. "Are we letting consultants play?"

Don replied, "Your team has Garber."

Charlie pointed at Don. "There you go, Garber's playing." After a moment, he added, "Who's Garber?"

Don prompted, "Leon Garber. Forensics."

"Oh." Charlie nodded, remembering the man.

Alex continued to ignore Charlie. "Garber is our center." The unspoken implication was there was a good reason for making an exception in Garber's case.

After quietly processing that for a moment, Charlie acknowledged, "He is kind of tall."

Don shot his brother an amused glance. "Yeah, Charlie. He's 6' 5". He's _kinda_ tall."

Charlie joked with his brother, "Think I could take him?"

"Garber?" Don chuckled. "Yeah, to lunch, maybe."

Charlie threw a wad of paper at him.

As the brothers exchanged taunts and grins, it was Alex's turn to be ignored for a moment. A role reversal Charlie took more than a little pleasure in after listening to Alex talk about him as if he wasn't there.

Apparently, Alex didn't find the change so enjoyable. He inserted himself back into the conversation by petulantly declaring, "Hey, put whoever you want on your team. I just think the game would be a little more interesting if it wasn't a total blowout."

Knowing how competitive Don could be, Charlie expected that comment to get a reaction. But instead of getting angry, Don simply looked intrigued. "And you think it will be?"

"With the team you've got? First Terry and now the math geek?"

Don lifted his eyebrows a little. "You got a problem with Terry?"

"No, just… you know."

Don fixed Alex with an expectant gaze. "What?"

"She's… she's…" Not knowing how to phrase his objection, Alex settled for, "…not tall."

Don grinned, clearly amused by his verbal fumbling. "I'm telling her you said that."

Alex sneered, "Whatever," and stalked off.

After watching Alex depart, Charlie got up and walked over to lean against Don's desk. "Terry?"

Don nodded. "Actually, she was my first pick. No offense."

Charlie feigned hurt by slapping his hand against his chest as if wounded.

Don shrugged. "I've learned to play with Terry rather than against her, okay? Can we just leave it at that?"

Sensing there was a story behind that comment, Charlie adopted an expectant expression.

"She plays dirty!" Don complained. He started ticking off a list on his fingers. "She throws elbows, she steps on my feet, she trash talks _endlessly_, if I complain about any of it she calls me a girl…"

"Don, come on." Charlie laughed, "I have a little trouble believing…"

"Look, the last time I made the mistake of playing against her she pantsed me. I haven't been pantsed in the middle of a game since the fourth grade! Picking Terry for my team is a defensive strategy. It keeps me out of harm's way and she scares the other team."

"She scares them?" Charlie questioned. "How scary can Terry be?"

A voice directly behind him purred, "How scary do you want me to be?"


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Thank you for the kind reviews! My knowledge of basketball is fairly basic, so please let me know if I make a mistake. Upgraded the rating for suggestive language, but still no actual cursing. What can I say? It's called trash talk for a reason, people.

Chapter 2

"Hi! Hi, Terry." Charlie swept a hand over his suddenly pounding heart and tried to downplay how much she'd startled him. Her amused expression suggested he wasn't very successful.

"We, ah…" he gestured toward Don, "…we were just discussing the teams for the upcoming basketball game." He clapped his hands together and desperately tried to resist the urge to fidget under her steady gaze. Swallowing nervously, he looked over to Don for help.

"Alex was just here," Don supplied. "He called you 'not tall' by the way."

Terry arched an eyebrow.

"He also predicted the game would be a blowout," he continued with a smile. Charlie was surprised he was being so blunt, but Don seemed to think it was funny.

Terry blinked. "Because of me?" she asked.

Charlie jumped back into the conversation. "No, no. Because of me. Well, us, I guess," he shrugged.

"So, you are on the team?" she inquired.

Reluctant to start another round of proclaiming his athletic ability, particularly given Don's lukewarm support before, Charlie hesitated. Before he could say anything, Don broke out in a big smile and declared, "He's on the team!"

She smiled back at Don, "And I'm guessing you didn't tell him?"

"Nope," Don answered happily.

Charlie looked back and forth between them, confused. "Tell me what?"

Terry explained, "Not you. Alex. Your brother's been bragging about you all day. He says you're really good. Wouldn't stop talking about it, actually."

Charlie ducked his head, but couldn't stop the smile he felt stretching across his face at this revelation. After struggling all his life to fit in, he sometimes took greater pleasure in being recognized for his non-academic talents than his mind.

Terry turned back to Don. "But I'm guessing you didn't do that in front of Alex."

"I said Charlie could play," Don replied honestly. With a smirk he added, "I was non-specific as to how well."

Terry chortled with glee. "This is gonna be good. Where's Alex?"

Don licked his lips and paused as if considering saying something, but gave up when he saw she was already heading off in the direction Charlie had pointed.

Charlie caught his brother's eye, wondering if he'd made a mistake in pointing Terry toward Alex.

Don sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Now it starts."

Before Charlie could ask what that meant, he heard Terry call out from the next room, _"Hey, Alex! Not tall? Is that seriously the best you can do? And what are you, a giant?"_

"Wow." Charlie exclaimed. Accustomed to the composed professionalism she normally displayed, he realized it would take some time to get used to this more aggressive side of her personality.

Don laughed softly. "Oh, yeah. She wouldn't last long at this job without being able to go toe to toe with guys a lot tougher than Alex."

Charlie noticed the pride and admiration in his voice, but decided not to comment upon it. Any inquiries into whether Don was interested in Terry as more than a partner were always met with swift denials. Instead, he focused on the subject at hand. "So, how good a player is she?"

"Good. Fast, good passing skills, decent shooter."

"Decent." Charlie repeated.

Realizing his mistake, Don breathed out a loud sigh and hung his head.

"I'm telling her you said that," Charlie teased.

Don raised his head and rubbed at his forehead as if to fight off an impending headache. "Don't. Or I'll never hear the end of it."

They were interrupted by Terry's raised voice, which once again carried from the other room. _"Yeah? Well, prepare to be cut down to size, little man, because your team is going down!"_

Charlie theorized, "You know, the more she talks our team up, the more humiliating it would be to lose."

Don nodded. "Yeah, we're definitely gonna have to get some practice in before the game. I figure sometime next week…"

Terry's voice rang out. _"We're gonna spank you so hard you won't be able to sit down for a week!"_

After a pause, Don asked, "You think we should start this week?"

Charlie nodded vigorously.

"_Oh, really? You know what it takes to win, Alex? Ball control and stamina. And from what I hear, you boys might want to work on that._"

"How's now? We could start now." Charlie offered.

Don was already getting out of his chair. "Now's good."

As they headed off to collect Terry on the way to the gym, Charlie couldn't resist asking, "You bragged about me?"

Don clapped a hand on Charlie's shoulder, looked him in the eye, and scoffed, "No."

Charlie ignored the obvious lie and adopted a smug expression.

Don tried threatening, "If you don't stop gloating, I'm kicking you off the team."

Charlie pretended to ponder that claim. "Are you sure about that? Because I think there's a _decent_ chance you won't."

Charlie continued to walk on as Don stopped dead in his tracks. His grin only widened at the sound of Don's muttered curse behind him.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Oops! In the last chapter, I called Terry 'Natalie.' That's what I get for flying without a beta. I've been a fan of Sabrina Lloyd since she played Natalie on Sports Night. This story is (very) loosely based on an old Sports Night story of mine. Hope you don't mind. Sorry for the flub!

Special thanks to Jelsemium!

Chapter 3

Charlie stifled a yawn as he shuffled into his office at the university the next morning. The trio's impromptu practice last night lasted less than an hour, but was followed by a lengthy strategy session at a nearby all night diner, and Charlie hadn't made it home until very late.

The practice itself had been rocky. Charlie, normally a skillful player, had only managed to make a few baskets. Several attempts had been so bad that Charlie still winced at the memory.

Terry seemed more interested in thinking up new and better insults than in practicing. She repeatedly made mistakes due to lack of focus. Charlie was horrified when he accidentally hit her in the face with a pass because she hadn't been paying attention. She immediately shrugged off his repeated apologies, insisting the fault was hers, but he was mortified and his playing grew more hesitant as a result.

Don strapped on a knee brace with a vague explanation about a recent injury and quickly grew sullen and snapped at Charlie when he pressed for details. Don played the best out of the three that night, but he had slowed and developed a slight limp by the time he stopped and suggested they call it a night. A suggestion Charlie quickly seconded, eager to put a stop to any further humiliation that night.

Fortunately, their mood had rallied over the course of their late night talk at the diner and their confidence had slowly been restored. By the time they finally parted ways, they were all looking forward to the upcoming game.

Don had assured Charlie his game would improve. "Relax! Relax! Don't force it. Look, when I played for the Stockton Rangers, the first day of spring training was all wild pitches and fielding errors. Guys spent the entire day either clowning around or trying too hard. We got it out of our system and we settled down. You will too, alright?"

Charlie again took heart as he recalled those words, but decided to try and get in some extra practice time on his own. Just as Charlie was pulling off his messenger bag and putting it down on his desk, he heard a quick rap on the door. "Hey, Charlie," Terry greeted him.

"Hey." Charlie studied her for a moment, puzzled by her arrival until suddenly the reason for her visit hit him. His hands flew up to his temples. "Oh, that's right! The uh, the findings based on the new equation. Right! I promised to give it to you this morning. I have it. It's here. Just… Hang on!" Charlie began frantically rooting through his bag.

Terry calmly waved her hand at him as she strolled into the room. "Take your time. Larry stopped Don on our way into the building. Something about wanting the inside scoop on your Dad's chess game."

Charlie smiled. Larry had played quite a few chess games with Alan recently and he always lost. Determined to best him, Larry had pressed Charlie for strategic advice more than once. He wasn't surprised to hear Larry was now attempting to get information out of Don.

As Charlie continued his search, shuffling through the stacks of paper on his desk, he realized Terry was quietly muttering to herself. Glancing up, he noticed she was doing an odd little dance that seemed to involve a lot of clipped, repetitive movements. She had her head down and kept her movements small, as if rehearsing something in her head. He was about to teasingly ask her if she was having some sort of attack, when he caught some of the words.

"…_can't be beat… yeah, uh-huh… we'll knock you off your feet…_"

Tilting his head, Charlie inquired with a smile, "Terry, is that a cheer?"

Terry's head snapped up. She looked flustered and colored slightly, but held his gaze. "Yeah."

"Were you… You were a cheerleader?"

Terry laughed and shrugged. "A lifetime ago. High school."

Charlie shook his head and smiled. This new discovery marked yet another shift in what he knew about Terry. He'd always been impressed with her abilities as a profiler, and he knew Don trusted her implicitly as an agent, but he found he was just now starting to learn about who she really was as an individual.

Before he could say anything, Don sauntered into the room. "Charlie," he greeted with a nod.

Delighted by his new discovery, Charlie was eager to share it. "Hey, Don! Did you know Terry was a cheerleader back in high school?"

Don chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, I think that's where she first developed her talent for trash talking on the court. When..." Don broke off and froze momentarily.

Don's eyes shifted back and forth between them rapidly before settling on Terry. He studied her for a long moment, taking in her body language and the way she wouldn't meet his eyes. Then he broke out in a big smile and crowed, "You did a cheer!"

Terry sputtered, "No, not… Not really… I just…"

Don glanced around quickly to ensure no one else was in the room and began advancing on his partner. "You did a cheer!" he repeated, only this time in a slightly lower voice. He said the word "cheer" in a lascivious tone normally reserved for words like "lap dance" and his face took on a look of naked admiration.

Terry, now blushing, waved her hands at him vaguely with a slight laugh and muttered, "Idiot."

His voice lowered further as he reached her side and coaxed, "Do it again."

At this point, Charlie cleared his throat noisily to remind them he was still in the room.

Don glanced up as if just remembering Charlie was there, and then his eyes narrowed dangerously. "You did a cheer. For him?" he asked her.

Terry rolled her eyes at this comment, which only seemed to encourage him. He took on a heavily melodramatic stance and cried, "My _own_ brother!"

At this, she shoved him away and stalked out of the room, pointedly ignoring Don and only offering a quick goodbye to Charlie.

Don laughed and tauntingly called after her, "Go Wildcats!"

Terry paused briefly but refused to turn around and quickly resumed walking out the door.

Turning to Charlie, Don explained, "Her high school team was the…"

"Wildcats," Charlie finished for him. Charlie's eyes darted between Don and the open door Terry had just walked though. "What happened to being afraid of her? All of that talk about how scary she can be?"

With a wide grin, Don declared, "Some things are worth the risk."


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Sorry it took me a while to update. To make up for it, I'm posting two chapters.

Chapter 4

"No, see, that's what most people don't get about playing center. I mean, sure, height helps, but you still have to know how to play. David doesn't have the height of the other team's center, but he's our best jumper and a good defender."

Charlie paused in the open doorway and watched Don and Amita chatting comfortably in the empty classroom. She was seated at one of the front row desks while Don perched on the table at the front of the room, directly across from her.

Charlie didn't bother to wonder why Don hadn't just called. They both had a habit of dropping by unannounced. While they'd never discussed it, Charlie suspected it was a residual effect of the years they had lost touch. There remained a lingering fear that "call first" would become "call instead" and "call instead" would lead to "call you sometime."

Amita responded, "Well, I don't know much about basketball, but I know I wouldn't want to go up against Shaq or Yao Ming."

"Nah, you could take 'em," Don drawled with a slow grin. Looking up, he added, "Right, Charlie?"

"I wouldn't bet against you," Charlie smiled.

Amita turned to look at him over her shoulder and he felt a familiar tiny thrill at her answering grin.

Charlie pushed off the doorjamb he'd been leaning against and stepped into the room. "You know, I'm a little relieved to see you. I was worried Terry might have pushed you out of the car as you left here yesterday."

"Nope. Still in one piece," Don assured him.

Charlie fixed him with an inquisitive look and waited for Don to explain how he'd managed that.

"I mean, I'm not saying I escaped unscathed," Don admitted. With a grin he added, "She challenged me to a little one-on-one last night. Practice for the game, right?"

"And?" Charlie prompted.

Don shrugged, "She still plays dirty, but I managed to survive."

Charlie suspected there was more to the story, but Don didn't volunteer anything further.

Allowing the topic to drop for now, he turned to look at Amita who said, "Don's been telling me about your game next week. He says you're going to be point guard."

Charlie raised his eyebrows slightly at that. It was his favorite position to play, but he wasn't sure he'd be a popular choice with the rest of the team. Since the point guard directed so much of the offensive action, it was important the other players accepted him.

Don shook his head slightly at the unspoken question. "They'll be fine. You have the mind for it and I like that you're ambidextrous."

"Well, who doesn't?" Larry commented as he entered the room. "I assume we're talking about Charles's ability to work in both pure and applied mathematics?"

"Actually, we were talking about basketball. We're discussing his ability to approach the basket equally well from either side," Amita explained. Turning to look at Don, she added, "Right?"

"Right," he smiled back at her.

Charlie couldn't help wondering how long they'd been talking and what exactly he'd missed. He made a mental note to ask Don about it later.

Pushing the thought away for now, he announced, "Okay, well, right now I have a class to teach. So, anybody who isn't prepared to help me teach a combinatorics seminar has to leave." He raised his hands in an ushering gesture to urge them along.

None of them moved.

Charlie focused his attention first on Larry, who rubbed a hand over the back of his head as he replied, "Yeah, actually… I've guest lectured for you on occasion, plus I've incorporated some of your work into my theory on growth processes, so…"

Charlie swung his gaze over to Don, who shrugged. "Well, look, I'm not saying my answers would be right. But I could fake it. Plus, if I get into trouble I could always distract them with stories about your basketball highlights."

"I think they'd like that," Amita supplied helpfully.

Don gave her a little nod in thanks for her support and turned back to Charlie with an expectant grin.

Charlie rolled his eyes and pointed at the door. "Out. Everybody out."

That finally had the desired effect, but it seemed to work a little too well. Charlie placed a lightly restraining hand on Amita's arm as she passed him. "You can stay," he assured her in a quiet voice.

"Oh, good," she smiled playfully at him. He noticed she didn't step away, but instead remained standing close beside him.

As Don followed Larry out, he called over his shoulder, "Practice on Sunday. Four o'clock." Don stopped and turned back slightly to face him. "Okay?"

"Okay," Charlie replied as he stepped back from Amita and held up his hand in a slight wave.

"You gonna be our sixth man, Amita?" Don asked.

"You gonna help me grade special problem sets?" she shot back.

"Think I could?" he squinted at her over the sunglasses he'd just put on.

"Sure. Just try to remember that in enumerate combinatorics RPP stands for Reverse Plane Partition and not Resuming Play Procedure."

Don pursed his lips slightly as he absorbed that. "Good to know."

Resuming his departure, Don called out, "Sunday, four o'clock. Don't be late."

Charlie gave another quick wave in acknowledgement as he watched his brother walk out the door. Turning to Amita with a smile, he joked, "Why do you encourage him?"

Amita happily shot back, "Why do you?"

Unable to come up with a good answer, Charlie shook his head and turned his attention to setting up the overhead projector.

After a minute, something occurred to him and he glanced over at Amita, wondering for a second time just how long Don and Amita had talked. "Resuming Play Procedure?"

Amita laughed.

That settled it. Charlie was _definitely_ asking Don about their little chat.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Charlie didn't see Don again until he came over to the house Friday night. After dinner, Alan retired to the living room and left his sons to deal with the dishes. Charlie took the opportunity to ask Don about his talk with Amita. The answer was less than comforting.

"You took her to lunch?" Charlie repeated. Although he'd heard the words clearly, he clung to the hope that he'd somehow misunderstood. "You mean, like, like a d…" Charlie couldn't seem to get the word 'date' to come out of his mouth.

Don eyes went wide and he held up his hands. "No! No. Of course not. Look, I couldn't find you. Amita said you had class in an hour, so I decided to wait. I bought her lunch and she let me talk about basketball. Seemed a fair trade," he concluded with a shrug as he reached for the dish soap.

Charlie sorted through several emotions as he absorbed this information: anger, fear, jealousy – until he settled on the one that felt right: exasperation. Don seemed to think Amita had the words "property of Charlie" tattooed on her forehead, but the truth was Don had unintentionally come closer to taking Amita out on a real date than Charlie had ever managed to do.

"She likes you," Don quietly observed. As he rinsed off a dish and passed it to Charlie to dry, Don shot him a sidelong glance.

Charlie was determined not to take the bait. He was not going to ask, he was not going to ask, he – oh, who was he kidding?

Accepting that it was impossible for him to resist, Charlie tried to at least achieve a nonchalant tone. "What, ah, what makes you say that?"

"All during lunch, she kept asking me questions about basketball. But what she was really asking about was you. 'How long has Charlie been playing?', 'What position does he play?', 'What makes Charlie a good point guard?'"

Charlie's brain stalled out slightly as he tried to process this new information. "Right. Okay. And what did you say?"

Charlie looked over at Don and noticed he seemed to be repeatedly scrubbing the same already clean plate rather than meet his eyes.

Charlie groaned, "No! No! Let me guess, I'm now the greatest basketball player who ever lived, right?"

"I might have talked you up a little," Don admitted. At Charlie's outraged expression, Don rushed to assure him, "Relax! Look, I'm telling you, that's not what she cared about anyway. She didn't care how good a player you are. She just wanted to know more about the fascinating life of Dr. Charlie Eppes."

Charlie struggled to suppress a smile and failed miserably.

Deciding it was time to switch to a safer topic, Charlie asked, "Hey, so what really happened with Terry the other night? I know she challenged you to a game of one-on-one, but I'm guessing there's more to the story."

"That woman is cruel," Don sighed.

Relieved to have successfully distracted him, Charlie leaned against the counter and eagerly waited to hear more.

"She bounced," he confessed in a barely audible mumble.

"The ball," Charlie finished for him, trying to grasp his brother's point.

Don glanced toward the entrance to the kitchen and lowered his voice. "No, I mean _she_ bounced. I… I don't know how she does it. It's subtle. I wasn't even sure she was doing it on purpose at first. But when she wants to, she can put an extra bounce into her step as she dribbles. And when her step bounces…"

"She bounces," Charlie finished, finally getting the picture. "And I'm guessing your game suffered as a result?"

Don's anguished groan said it all.

Charlie couldn't resist teasing, "Had a little trouble keeping your eye on the ball?"

Don swept up a dishtowel and tossed it at him. Laughing, Charlie caught it and began using it to dry another plate.

"Oh, what, and I suppose you've never been distracted by Amita," Don challenged.

Charlie shrugged and refused to answer.

"Oh, come on. Not ever?"

Charlie glanced over his shoulder at the doorway. In a low voice he confided, "Amita has an amazing back. Strong yet graceful, you know? I wonder if she gets that from playing tennis…"

"Not the point, Charlie."

"Right, right. Anyway. Sometimes, when she reaches up to write something at the top of a whiteboard, the back of her shirt rides up a little and…"

Charlie barely resisted the urge to yelp in surprise when he suddenly felt a hand land on his shoulder. He'd been so wrapped up in their conversation that he hadn't heard Alan walk into the room. Based on his started expression, Don hadn't either. "So… what you two been talking about so intently, hmm?" Alan asked.

Charlie seemed to find his voice first. "S-s-sports."

Alan raised an eyebrow.

"Basketball."

"Tennis."

"Sports," they repeated in unison.

"Oh," Alan nodded. Picking up the water glass he'd come in for, he turned to leave. At the doorway, he paused and asked, "Don't you ever talk about girls?"

Charlie smiled. "We'll, ah, we'll work on it, Dad."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I still don't own Numb3rs or any of the characters.

Author's Note: I know, I know. I haven't updated in ages. Sorry! To make amends, I'm posting two chapters at once.

Also, I created a female character, but don't worry. She's not a Mary Sue. I just decided the co-ed team needed a little balance.

Chapter 6

Charlie enjoyed the feel of the basketball under his hand. The control he had over it. Bouncing it down and knowing it would bounce back up to his hand again. He confidently drew it up, took aim at the basket, and… missed.

As Charlie darted forward to retrieve the ball, a discussion broke out behind him.

"Maybe it's a family trait. I noticed you missing a shot or two, Don."

"Gimme a break, Terry."

"I'm serious. Could be a genetic failing. Have you considered getting tested?"

"Know what else runs in the family? Benching players for mouthing off too much."

"Just trying to help."

"Uh-huh."

Charlie closed out all distractions around him. Focused on the rim and exhaled. Visualized the ball going in. Took the shot and… missed.

It was Sunday and the practice had gone well. Far better than their first attempt. In addition to filling out the rest of the team, they'd roped enough friends and co-workers into the project to have a scrimmage.

For the most part, Don's prediction that Charlie's game would improve to his usual level had been correct. Charlie had a talent for analyzing the opposing team's strategy and adapting plays in response.

He'd always had difficulty reading emotions of people he didn't know well. Studying their movements was much easier. He couldn't tell you why a player consistently took the shot even when passing the ball was the smarter move. But he could tell you, based on that player's averages, that blocking nearby teammates was a waste of manpower. Blocking him from advancing further was statistically more likely to push him into taking a shot that had a low chance of success.

The more time he'd spent with the other players during practice, the more he saw patterns in their behavior, which allowed him to both anticipate their opponents' movements and capitalize on his teammates' strengths.

The other players on the team quickly grew to appreciate Charlie's style because he readily passed the ball. He was more interested in seeing a strategy play out successfully than in getting the credit for making the basket himself. When he did attempt to make a basket, he was usually successful. He'd sunk several baskets over the course of the practice. Somehow, within the flow of the game, it came easily to him. His free throws, however…

Charlie pushed aside all other thoughts and concentrated on the moment. This one moment in time. Nothing else mattered. Only the arc as the ball left his hand traveling upward and… missed.

Not only had the practice been successful, it'd been fun. Terry's brazen behavior on the court energized the entire group. David, who'd modestly described himself as an "okay" player, turned out to be a formidable defense player. While admittedly not the tallest center ever, he still managed to block an impressive number of shots.

Kia Harris, a new agent fresh from the academy, had endless energy and never stopped moving on the court. Don claimed he'd picked her to make the rival team feel old, but Charlie suspected he was also using the opportunity to build up her confidence and give her a chance to get to know her co-workers better.

Best of all, Don and Charlie quickly fell back into a familiar rhythm based on years of playing basketball together growing up. They even made a couple of no-look passes because they could anticipate each other's movements so well. Charlie noticed that Don wore his knee brace again, but this time it didn't seem to slow him down.

Charlie harnessed the positive energy and redirected it into his shot. This was fun. This was easy. He could do this. He relaxed, adjusted his feet, sighted the basket, and… scored!

Charlie blinked. He'd gotten so used to missing that it took him a second to register that this time he'd actually made the basket. It wasn't pretty, but the ball went in after teetering along the rim momentarily. A promising start, Charlie decided. His elation was only slightly marred by the muttered, "Finally!" behind him.

Don dropped a hand onto Charlie's shoulder. "Okay, you did it. How about we get out of here? Come on."

Charlie shook his head stubbornly. "I can get this."

"Okay," Don soothed, "But not today. Practice is over, buddy. Come on, everybody else is changed and halfway to the bar by now. Let's go."

Indeed, everyone else had left. Only Don, Terry, and Charlie remained. Still, Charlie couldn't let it go. He shook off Don's hand, retrieved the ball, and focused on the basket again. This time, when he brought the ball up, Don swept it out of his hands.

"Charlie, come on! Time's up, okay? We have to clear out so the other team can…"

Don was interrupted by a loud, taunting voice. "Hey, Eppes! Trying to squeeze in a little extra coaching time? Guess I don't have to ask who the weakest players on your team are. You know, I did try to warn you."


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: Warning for some suggestive language, but no cursing.

Chapter 7

They turned to see Alex, captain of the opposing team, strolling toward them.

Before Don could reply, Terry started forward to intercept Alex. As she passed, Don muttered, "Hey, maybe we could get through one game without starting a war. How would that be?"

"I'll be nice," she breezily assured him without slowing down.

"Right," he mumbled.

She stopped a few paces in front of Don and Charlie and happily called out in greeting, "Alex! Here to practice? Glad to see you're taking my advice about working on your stamina. Nothing worse than a guy too proud to admit his shortcomings."

Alex fixed her with a tight grin as he continued to approach. "Always happy to take advice from a _little_ lady."

"Funny! Think of that one all by yourself, did ya?" Terry tossed back. "I hope you're better at rebounds than comebacks. Otherwise, that might be yet _another_ area you need to work on." She continued with a note of mock concern, "You sure you're going to be ready in time for the game? We could postpone it if you needed to."

Alex got in Terry's face and growled, "Oh, we'll be ready."

Terry held up her hands, but refused to back up. "Just offering a little help. Thought you might need it."

"Such a little helper," Alex sneered as he continued to crowd her.

"Hope I haven't hurt your feelings?" she asked in a mocking tone.

"Oh, no," he assured her. "Nothing wrong with offering help. In fact, anytime you want an opportunity to work on your ball handling technique, I'd be happy to make myself available to you."

Charlie didn't even realize he'd started forward until he felt Don's hand on his shoulder, holding him back. When he glanced back, Don shook his head slightly.

"Aww, that's sweet," Terry cooed back at Alex. "But I think you'll have to settle for hand-checking yourself. And if that was your idea of a pick-up line, I'm guessing you spend a lot of Saturday nights that way."

Don's chuckle caught Alex's attention. "What, you got something to say?" he challenged.

Don casually bounced the ball a couple of times. His expression didn't give anything away, but something about his body language suggested he was resisting the urge to throw the ball at Alex. Hard.

Still, Don simply shook his head. "She's doing fine," he replied in a tranquil tone.

"No?" Alex grumbled. "You two just gonna let her do all the talking? Maybe she's the only member of your team who's got a pair."

Don arched an eyebrow at Terry. She glanced back over her shoulder and commented, "I'd like to take this one."

One corner of Don's mouth turned up and he nodded once to indicate she had the floor.

Rounding on Alex, Terry explained, "Most people don't consider the ability to produce speech a sign of masculinity. Of course, based on your weak attempts at wit, I'm not surprised to hear you let that part of your anatomy you're so fond of _handling_ do all your thinking. But some guys occasionally let the brain have a turn."

This time, it was the sound of Charlie's laughter that drew Alex's attention. He glared at Don and Charlie. "You guys gonna let her fight your battles for you?"

Don turned his head to look at Charlie. Charlie shrugged, "Why not? She's good at it."

Don nodded and replied serenely, "She is."

They turned back to look at Alex, who didn't seem to have a comeback for that. Instead, he blustered, "Well, if you ladies are done here, we'd like to get our practice started."

Don handed the ball over to Charlie while gently propelling him forward by the shoulder. Throwing his other arm over Terry's shoulder, he steered them both off the court. "Come on, let's go. First round's on me."

By this time, a few of the other players on Alex's team had arrived. Seeing familiar faces from Don's office helped Charlie calm down and remember that the point of the game was to have fun, not make enemies.

As they passed the other players, Don called out with a smile, "Have a good practice, guys."

But his smile only grew wider when Terry added, "You're gonna need it."


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: I'm only posting one chapter, but I'll update soon. I promise! Warning for depiction of alcohol consumption.

Chapter 8

"I… am not going to be able to drive home." Terry announced this as if she'd made a dazzling discovery.

"True," Don nodded.

They were sitting in a bar later that same night. As promised, Don had bought the first round. And a couple other rounds too.

They'd arrived a couple hours ago to a mixture of cheers and taunts from the teammates and friends already gathered there after practice. The group spent much of the evening happily recapping the scrimmage and warmly debating who was the best player. By now, most of the group had departed and only the five teammates remained.

Terry eyed Don critically, "You've had, what, one beer?"

Don nodded.

She reached out and picked up the dark brown bottle. "Still a little left," she observed before setting it back down. She began idly rocking it back and forth.

"And you?" Terry asked, looking across the table at Charlie.

Out of the corner of his eye, Charlie watched Don quietly slide the beer bottle out of reach to prevent her from tipping it over. He propped his elbows on the table and shrugged. "Cherry coke. But I had two if that helps."

Terry leaned against Don. "Why did I drink more than you guys?"

"Because we kept buying you drinks," Don reminded her.

"In gratitude," Charlie added.

"Right," Don continued with a grin. "In gratitude for defending our honor."

Terry giggled. Charlie noticed she remained leaning against Don and his fond glance in her direction suggested he didn't exactly mind.

The reality was, she hadn't had that much to drink either. It was true she would need a ride home, and she was clearly feeling no pain, but Charlie doubted she'd have trouble making it into the office in the morning.

"Alex… is…" she seemed to lose her train of thought and looked to Charlie for help. "What is he?"

"A complete jerk," he replied immediately and with some feeling.

"Right!" she declared and giggled again.

On second thought, Charlie reflected, maybe she'd had more to drink than he realized.

Don seemed to be thinking along similar lines as he signaled the waitress and requested water.

Charlie smiled. That wouldn't do much to sober her up now, but it might lessen the effects of her impending hangover tomorrow morning. That seemed like Don's style. He was protective of the people he was closest to, but he never stood in their way. Growing up, Charlie learned to go to Don when he wanted to try, as their father put it, 'slightly dangerous' things. Don might protest at first, but if you were really determined, you could always count on him to not only let you go but to come along for the ride and keep you from getting hurt.

Charlie's thoughts were interrupted when the new agent, Kia, stood up from a nearby table where she'd been engrossed in a conversation with David and announced, "This has been fun, but I gotta go." David stood up and offered to walk her out. He held up his hand in a wave to the rest of the group. "Good night, guys. See you tomorrow."

Terry and Charlie both waved back, but Don called out, "Wait up a sec!" and gently pushed Terry back up into an upright position before standing up. He made sure to catch Charlie's eye in an unspoken request to look out for Terry while he was gone.

Charlie smiled and nodded to reassure him. Don smiled back and gave him a quick conspiratorial wink before hurrying after the others.

After watching Don leave, Terry turned back to Charlie with a slightly unfocused smile. "Charlie, you're going to help me."

Charlie ducked his head to hide a bemused smile. "Me? How am I going to do that?"

She leaned over the table toward him and confided, "I accused Don of talking about my abilities on the basketball court in less than glowing terms. He denied it. _You_ are going to tell me what he really says about me behind my back."

Charlie leaned way back in his seat, balancing on the two back legs of the chair, and tried to suppress a laugh. "And why would I do that?"

Terry raised her eyebrows. "So he did say something about me. Something he wouldn't want repeated."

Charlie set the chair back down and sat up straighter. He was grateful for the momentary interruption as the waitress arrived with glasses of water. Terry somehow seemed more collected than she had a minute ago. He'd gone from placating a happy drunk to squirming under the piercing gaze of an FBI profiler and he never saw the switch happen.

The waitress was still hovering near his elbow, so he glanced up and muttered a distracted "Thanks" as he reached for the glass of water. He wasn't really thirsty, but having something to occupy his mouth seemed like a good idea just then.

That got rid of the waitress, but Terry was more persistent. "Do you know why you're going to tell me?"

Charlie shook his head mutely and concentrated on stilling any nervous habits that might give something away.

"Because you want to know how Don injured his leg. Think of it," she explained with a casual wave of her hand, "as an exchange of information."

Charlie's eyes darted to the door, but Don was outside talking with David and Kia. Rescue by a returning Don seemed far off and Terry's smile looked dangerous.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: In the previous chapter, Don had only one drink over two hours which at his body weight would not put him over the blood-alcohol limit. I was going to revisit that in this chapter, but it was awkward and I cut it out. Please accept as a given that within the universe of my light and fluffy fic, all of the characters are far too responsible to drive under the influence.

Chapter 9

"So, do we have a deal?" Terry asked with a note of triumphant glee.

Charlie tilted his head and fixed her with a considering gaze. "You know, Terry, it's not often people mistake me for stupid."

Terry held his gaze steadily for a long moment.

Then she suddenly slumped back in her chair. "I figured it was worth a shot," she shrugged.

"His knee?" Charlie sputtered indignantly. "It's not a bullet wound. Believe me, I've seen him like this before, okay? Do you have any idea how many sports injuries he's had over the years? But he still gets mad anytime his 'work through the pain' philosophy doesn't solve everything. Which, by the way, with a knee injury is an especially bad plan."

Terry smirked and rolled her eyes in agreement.

Charlie continued. "I don't have to know all the details of how he got hurt to know the fact he's actually taking care of an injury for a change means some doctor somewhere called him an idiot. Probably loudly. And repeatedly."

Terry laughed. Her relaxed, happy mood had returned. Charlie recognized that it hadn't been an act. She'd simply managed to mask her tipsiness for a few minutes while she tried to intimidate him.

No longer on the hot seat, Charlie allowed some anxiousness to show as he toyed with the edge of the napkin under his water glass and asked, "Does… does he need surgery?"

Terry's expression grew equally serious and she shook her head. "I don't think so. He hasn't been sidelined from field work, so it can't be anything serious."

After a moment, her smile returned as she asked, "I don't suppose that little piece of information was worth…" She gave up after one look at Charlie's expression. "Yeah, okay," she sighed.

"Although," Charlie commented as he tapped the table, "there is something I've been wanting to know."

"Yeah?" She leaned forward eagerly. "What?"

"What's the end game? What's Don looking to get out of the basketball game?"

Terry shot him a quizzical look. "He wants to win. So do I. So does everybody."

"Yeah," Charlie nodded. "But it feels like there's more going on. The day Don told Alex he wanted me on the team, Alex called me a 'math geek' and Don just let it slide. But he told you about Alex's 'not tall' comment at the first opportunity. And today, Alex addressed Don when he first walked into the gym and Don didn't respond at all. Instead, you jumped in."

When Terry opened her mouth to reply, Charlie held up his hand and finished, "Okay, maybe some of that is personality, but it seems to me that lately Don's been avoiding arguments while you've been starting them. Why?"

Terry stared at him for a long time. Instead of answering the question, she challenged, "Let's say there was an ulterior motive and I discussed it with you. Would you tell me what Don said about me?"

Charlie hesitated. The truth was, he wasn't sure. Revealing Don's remark that she was a 'decent' shooter seemed like such a small thing. And the chance to solve this little mystery was tempting.

Terry leaned back in her chair. "Guess we'll never know," she murmured as she looked at a point just over Charlie's right shoulder.

He turned to see Don returning to the table. "Are we ready?" Don asked as he signaled the waitress for the check.

Charlie nodded. It was getting late and he still had some work to do in preparation for his classes the next day. He mentally ran through a to-do list as he watched Don and Terry engage in a brief battle of wills that ended when Don grumbled, "Fine. You know what? Don't drink the water."

The waitress brought the check to Charlie, but Don swiftly reached over and picked it up.

Charlie pulled out his wallet. "Hey, let me…"

Don waved him off with a friendly smile. "I got it."

As they filed out toward the exit, Don glanced back over his shoulder and confided to Charlie with a teasing grin, "And don't worry, I gave your new friend a healthy sized tip."

"Oh. Well, good. The service was excellent," Charlie noted.

Don stopped so suddenly that Charlie almost ran into him. "Charlie!" he ground out in exasperation. Terry covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.

Charlie went back over the exchange, trying to figure out what he'd said. He turned to Terry for help, who prompted, "The waitress. She liked you."

Charlie was surprised. Thinking back, she had been very attentive and friendly all evening, but that didn't prove anything. "She did?"

Don, after glancing over to make sure the waitress wasn't close enough to overhear, asked him, "Didn't you notice? You made that joke about tangent planes and she laughed."

"So?" Charlie shrugged.

"She was the _only_ one that laughed," Don reminded him.

"And she kind of tossed her hair around as she laughed," Terry added with an imitation of the move.

"So?" he asked, still not seeing it.

"So, it wasn't funny, Charlie!" Don exclaimed.

"Are you sure? Because that joke kills at math conferences."

Don rolled his eyes and resumed walking toward the door. "Remind me to never go to one of those things."

Charlie looked back and spotted the waitress. When she noticed him watching her, her face lit up in a smile and she leaned over the bar, displaying an impressive amount of cleavage.

"How do I miss these things?" he pondered aloud.

Terry laughed and dragged him toward the door. "Maybe next time, champ."


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I still don't own Numb3rs or any of the characters.

Author's Note: Sorry! I meant to update sooner. Bear with me, and I should be able to wrap this story up quickly. Promise!

This is a Season 1 story.

Special thanks to Mt.Suz!

Chapter 10

As Charlie was leaving class the next day, he turned on his cell phone to find three voicemails from Don. Each message asking Charlie to call in a more urgent tone than the last.

Ignoring the final message from another caller, Charlie immediately called Don.

"Eppes."

"Don, what's wrong?"

"Charlie! Finally! Listen. I don't have long, but I need to know: last night, in the bar, what did you and Terry talk about?"

Charlie hesitated. He was less than eager to reveal they'd been talking about Don behind his back. Stalling for time, he asked, "Why? What's going on?"

"Terry," Don groaned. "She's been on my case all day and I don't know why."

Charlie snickered, relieved that his brother's crisis wasn't anything more serious. "Well, a hangover can make anyone…"

Don cut him off. "No. Uh-uh. This is personal. This is about me being punished."

Charlie dropped onto a convenient bench next to the bike rack. "Okay, so what did you do?"

"Hey!" Don exclaimed in an affronted tone. "Why assume it's my fault?"

Charlie patiently waited.

After a moment, Don grudgingly acknowledged, "Yeah, okay. But precedent aside, I still don't know what I did. I finally asked her, and she said 'Maybe Charlie can figure it out.' So, it's gotta be something you figured out and talked about with her. Right?"

Thinking back over their conversation, Charlie said, "Well, I told her I thought you had another objective for the basketball game besides winning. I told her it seemed like you were ducking fights with Alex and letting Terry fight him for you."

There was a pause on the other end. When Don spoke again, there was a slight smile in his voice. "You figured that out, huh? Not bad, Charlie." Then, in a brusque tone, he said, "Okay. Thanks."

_Click._

Charlie stared at his phone in disbelief. Only Don would consider that an acceptable end to the conversation. He quickly hit the speed dial number for Don's cell.

"Eppes."

"Hey! You can't hang up without an explanation. What's going on?"

Charlie could just barely make out the "Oh, man" Don muttered before he said in a louder voice, "Hang on." Charlie couldn't hear anything for a minute, but presumably Don was moving to a private space to talk.

When he came back on the line, Don said, "You can't repeat this to anyone, okay? About three months ago, I asked Alex for a favor. No big deal, just… see if he could get some of his contacts in Washington to speed something up, you know? Make sure a certain file made it to the top of the list."

Charlie listened to Don's vague description and decided to let it slide for now. Shaking aside his thoughts, he picked up the conversation. "But if Alex gets pissed off at you, maybe that file gets buried at the bottom of the list instead."

"Right," Don sighed. "And this favor – it should be coming through any day now. I mean, I'm not gonna throw the game or anything, but I can't exactly get in his face right now, you know?" Charlie could hear the frustration in his voice and was dying to ask more questions, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. He'd already pushed to get this much out of Don. Charlie knew his brother well enough to know that pushing further at this point wouldn't work.

Instead, he decided to move on to a different piece of the puzzle. "Okay, so why is Terry mad? You asked her to distract Alex from going after you, right? Clearly, she hasn't had a problem with it so far."

Don sighed into the phone. "I didn't. That's the problem."

"I don't understand."

"I didn't tell Terry what I was up to, alright? I decided not to tell anybody in case it didn't work out. She's mad because I kept something from her."

Charlie had to admire Terry's poker face. Last night, he'd pointed out something she'd missed, and she never gave any indication she wasn't already in the know.

Don continued speaking, his voice rising as he warmed to the topic. "But I didn't have to ask her to help me. Because I know she'll not only watch my back, but take on Alex or anybody else the second I hesitate. I know because she's the best partner I ever had. I know because she's Terry. And Terry… can move very quietly when she wants to."

Charlie was thrown by the abrupt change of topic until he figured out what must have happened. "She's standing right in front of you isn't she."

Don was too busy to answer. "Hey, Terry. How's it going?" The pained yet slightly bemused tone of his voice said he was busted and he knew it. "You, ah, you look very nice today."

Charlie tried to help by coaching, "Try complimenting something specific."

"I really like that gun holster. Is it new?"

Charlie's eyes flew open wide. "No! Bad! Pick something else."

But Don continued his conversation with Terry uninterrupted. "Leather, really? Hey, a comfortable holster is hard to find. Adjustable, huh? Nice."

Charlie couldn't believe that was working. Either Terry had overhead Don's comments about how much he admired her as a partner; or she found his floundering charming in a pathetic sort of way.

Don said, "Uh-huh." There was a pause before he said, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"What? What's not a good idea?" Charlie asked.

Don ignored him and continued speaking to Terry. "Besides, Charlie's too busy to talk right now." Don's sentence was punctuated by a loud "Ow!" and his voice sounded far away as he grumbled, "Hey, no hitting!"

Terry's voice came on the line. "Hi, Charlie," she greeted in a friendly tone.

Charlie quickly covered the phone to stifle a laugh at how easily she'd claimed the phone from his supposedly tough big brother. As soon as he could swallow the laugh, he asked, "How much did you overhear?"

"Enough," she replied.

"Is he's forgiven?"

"Maybe. He still has to learn it's not good to keep things from me. And that it's okay to say nice things about people to their faces instead of just behind their backs." Clearly, her comments were directed as much to Don as Charlie.

"And everyone thinks he's the more socially adept one of us," Charlie complained.

She laughed. "Well, until he improves his social skills, I guess it's up to us to look out for him."

"Yeah? And if Alex tries to provoke him during the game?"

"I'll knock Alex down and you can step on his neck."

Charlie laughingly agreed. It wasn't until after they'd exchanged goodbyes and ended the call that it occurred to him to wonder if she knew that was supposed to be a joke.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Growing up, Charlie didn't spend much time with kids his own age. Pick-up games with Don and his friends were usually the only opportunity he got to play basketball. While his talent and love of the game were all his own, the chance to develop it was a gift from his big brother.

Charlie never resented being dependent upon Don in that way, because he knew how easy it would have been for Don to shut him out. Why give his genius brother one more opportunity to outshine him? But if Don resented Charlie's talent on the court, he never let it show. If Charlie outperformed him or his friends, Don would just laugh and say, "See? I told you he was good." Maybe he was just relieved that Charlie could do something normal for once. But hearing Don brag about him that way had always made Charlie feel ten feet tall.

Memories like that floated in the back of Charlie's mind like a dull ache the entire flight back home. While in Los Angeles, the game started without him.

As the cab from the airport pulled up to the house, Charlie let out a long, frustrated sigh. He'd been called in at the last minute to consult on a project for the NSA and been unable to make it back in time for the game. He'd called several times to apologize, but Don would only teasingly question him about the assignment, knowing Charlie couldn't answer.

It was important work, impossible to abandon. But he'd been looking forward to this game since the first time Don mentioned it and he'd have done just about anything to have been there.

"Hello?" he called out as he entered the house.

"Hey, Charlie!" his dad called back.

Charlie dumped his carry-on bag and laptop in the entryway and followed the sound of his father's voice. He found him in the living room, in his favorite chair, holding a book that he quickly set aside. As Charlie approached, Alan stood up and pulled him into a hug. After releasing him and settling back down into his chair, he asked, "So, ah, you have a good trip?"

Charlie smiled. Alan had learned to accept that there were things his sons couldn't tell him, but it wasn't always easy. "It was fine." He sank down onto the ottoman at his father's feet and all of the frustration he'd kept pent up all day came into his voice as he confessed, "I'm sorry I missed the game."

Charlie quickly looked away, embarrassed by the sudden display of emotion. It was stupid to get upset over anything so trivial, but he couldn't help it. Maybe it was just his body's way of trying to find some release after a couple of stressful days with the NSA.

Alan reached out and grabbed his knee. "Hey! Hey! None of that. Look, you're a grown man with important responsibilities. Donnie understands." In a rueful tone he added, "He gave me quite the lecture on it, actually."

Charlie nodded and pulled himself together. Turning back to face him, he asked, "How was the game? Did they win?"

Alan smiled, but the pause before he answered said it all. "They'll get 'em next time."

Charlie groaned at the news.

"They played good defense tonight; they just couldn't make enough shots. It was still a good game, though. Donnie played well. And that new girl, what's her name? Oh, and David made a couple 3-pointers that…" Alan trailed off and simply whistled in admiration.

Charlie forced a smile into place. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask who had subbed for him, but he didn't really want to hear it. Instead he asked, "What about Terry?"

Alan nodded and waved his hands in vague circles. "Oh, well. She, ah, played very well. Until she was ejected."

"Ejected?"

"Yeah. Uh-huh. Flagrant foul. I didn't see it happen, but all the sudden this guy from the other team is lying flat on his back, and she's standing over him shouting 'How tall am I now?' You know, I still don't know what that was all about. But Don – he couldn't stop laughing."

Charlie scrubbed the back of his hand over his mouth to cover a smile.

Alan eyed him for a moment, but when Charlie didn't offer any comment he shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "Well, anyway, that was the beginning of the end. They had the lead early on, but they also had a lot of turnovers and inconsistency. After Terry left the court and they called in a substitute…" Alan shrugged and concluded, "They never really got it back after that. The final score was 64-51."

Charlie hung his head with a sigh, even though he knew it was a mistake. He could feel his father watching him and knew if he didn't look up soon, attempts to cheer him up would begin.

Sure enough, after a moment, Alan offered, "Amita came to the game."

Charlie winced. Any fantasy he'd had about dazzling her with his athletic prowess was completely blown. Plus, he wasn't allowed to discuss his work for the NSA with her. Tomorrow, he'd repeat a vague explanation about why he'd missed the game and probably come off like a self-centered jerk who was more interested in making money on a consulting job than showing up for the game. "Not helping," he sighed.

"Sorry." After a minute, Alan tried again. "Hey! Donnie wore a knee brace for the game. Guess how he hurt his leg."

Charlie smiled despite himself and looked up. "How?"

"Playing 'Capture the Flag' with a bunch of kids."

"No!"

Alan chuckled. "Yeah, apparently he dropped by while David was babysitting his sister's kids and ended up organizing a game of 'Capture the Flag' with the kids and some of their friends.

"Oh! He used to do that when we were kids! That was the best!"

"And now with all his FBI training…"

"Right!" Charlie nodded. He lapsed into silence picturing it. Don had been great at 'Capture the Flag' when they were kids. He would organize friends and kids from the neighborhood into an elaborate game that took the whole afternoon. Win or lose, you came home feeling like you'd had a big adventure. Add FBI tactics to that, and it must have been amazing. Well, until Don got hurt, of course.

Something else occurred to Charlie. "What did you have to give Terry to find that out?"

Alan looked surprised. "My recipe for double-fudge brownies. How did you know that?"

Charlie crossed his arms and shrugged. "Just a guess."

Alan gave him a long, considering look that suggested he was wondering if he'd been had. But all he said was, "Good guess."

Charlie stood up quickly to avoid any further discussion of Terry's penchant for trading information. "Well, I should talk to Don. Apologize again. Did he go home?"

Alan hesitated before answering. "No. He's still here. He's out on the back porch with Terry. But, listen, why don't you wait until tomorrow? It's late, huh? You two can talk in the morning."

Charlie was only half listening as he started toward the back door. "No, no. I better talk to him tonight. You know how competitive he can be. If I know Don, he's inconsolable right now."


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Note: I'm posting the last two chapters together and I'm FINALLY done! Thanks to everyone who read my story despite lengthy delays in posting and special thanks to those who took the time to review.

Chapter 12

Don reached up to scrub away a tear with the back of his hand. And continued to roar with laughter.

After Charlie failed to find Don and Terry on the back porch, he'd followed the sound of Don's laughter into the backyard. He found them in the garden, sitting on an old wooden bench Alan had built as a gift for his wife years ago. There weren't any lights back here, but there was enough moonlight for Charlie to make out their shapes. They sat side-by-side, facing away from the house and gazing up into the night sky. As Charlie drew closer, Don got his laughter under control enough to gasp out, "'How tall am I _now_?' Beautiful!"

Terry coolly informed him, "Out of all my old boyfriends, and there have been a fair number, _you_ are my least favorite."

Don chuckled and cheerfully replied, "Hey, I'm just happy to have made the cut."

Charlie wasn't close enough to hear her muttered reply, but he could see her reach out with one hand and give Don a hard shove.

Don playfully allowed himself to be pushed away. When he settled back down next to her again, he stretched an arm out along the back of the bench and resumed his original topic. "No, I mean it. It was classic! Completely worth the foul."

Charlie didn't need to see her expression. There was no mistaking the disappointment in her voice as she asked, "You sure about that?"

Don's shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. "Sure, I'm sure. Why not?"

"Crushing defeat?" she prompted.

"Well, hey, I wouldn't say crushing," Don protested as he shifted his arm to gently grip her shoulder in a reassuring gesture. "Besides, that's Charlie's fault."

Charlie, who'd just opened his mouth to call out a greeting, froze.

Unaware of their audience, Don grumbled something that ended with, "…didn't even bother to show up."

Charlie was horrified. He thought Don understood. He hadn't seemed upset or angry when they'd talked on the phone. But Don was good at hiding his feelings. Maybe…

Charlie's thoughts were interrupted by Terry's quick laugh. "Oh, please! You're so proud you could bust."

"That's a terrible thing to say. Take it back."

"You kept humming 'Secret Agent Man' all day today."

Don chuckled softly, but didn't say anything to deny it.

Terry continued, "You do understand that he consults for the NSA, not MI6. They probably lock him up in a room with a lot of classified data. I doubt they've given him a license to kill."

Don's mumbled reply was too low for Charlie to hear, but whatever it was made Terry laugh.

Charlie found himself drifting closer it an attempt to hear better. As soon as he realized what he was doing, he stopped. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but that's exactly what he was doing. He decided he needed to either make his presence known now or turn around and leave.

Charlie realized that their conversation had moved on while he'd been considering his situation. Good. Maybe now…

Don's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Yeah? So what really happened that night at the bar? Are you telling me you tried to get information out of Charlie and he didn't crack?"

Charlie held his breath waiting for her reply. The truth was, he'd come uncomfortably close to caving that night.

But Terry simply said, "He's very loyal to you." Only the fear of discovery kept Charlie from sighing in relief.

"Nah," Don's drawled. "Another five minutes and you'd have cracked him like a walnut."

Charlie forgot his qualms about eavesdropping in light of his brother's insult. His face burned and he had to fight the urge to vehemently deny the accusation.

Don continued, "Face it. The Eppes men are helpless against your charms. Look how fast my Dad gave up his recipe for brownies. You know, I've got an aunt who's been trying to pry that out of him for years. The truth is, we're powerless to resist you."

"Would that be _all_ of the Eppes men?"

Don nodded.

"Prove it."

Don hesitated for a long moment. Tilting his head back, he took in a deep breath and let it out as a low, "Oh, man."

Don looked back at Terry and confessed in a rush, "I said you were a decent shooter, okay? I said a lot of other good, complementary things. I said you were a good player. And that's a fact. Ask Charlie. But… I did… I called your shooting 'decent'. There. It's out."

There was a pause. When Terry finally spoke, her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Uh-huh. Well, that's fascinating, Don. But it's not exactly what I had in mind."

Charlie was already quietly retreating back toward the house. When Don's delighted, "No?" reached his ears, Charlie shook his head in disgust. And people thought _he_ was bad at picking up signals.

Charlie chanced a glance back over his shoulder to reassure himself that Don had finally figured out Terry's true intentions. Terry tugged on the front of Don's shirt and slowly drew him into a kiss. He came willingly, trusting his partner and following her lead. But his hands hovered around Terry far away from her body. He was clearly being cautious – waiting for a trick or a laugh at his expense if this was a joke.

Apparently, Terry didn't appreciate his hesitancy because suddenly Don hissed and wrenched away to stare at her. He sat back, clearly confused and waiting for an explanation, but Terry only sweetly cooed, "Oh, I'm sorry. Did that hurt?"

Charlie stood rooted to the spot, waiting for Don to explode. To push Terry away and demand to know what kind of game she was playing.

Instead, there was a smile in Don's voice as he pretended to ponder her question, "I don't know... Do it again."

Terry moved in to kiss him again and this time Don responded. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight against him.

Charlie promptly resumed his escape back to the house. His back was to them and he moved as quickly as he could without making noise. Unfortunately, he couldn't block out Don's low voice behind him. A raspy mix of passion and mirth as he teasingly repeated between passionate kisses, "Yeah… It hurt... Do it again..."

Charlie sagged against the door with relief when he finally made it back into the house without being detected. It hadn't been his intention to spy on such an intimate moment. He shuddered in horror at the memory. Dad was right. He could talk with Don tomorrow.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

As students filed out of the classroom, Charlie glanced up and spotted his brother standing in the back of the room. He turned his attention back to the frustrated student in front of him, but continued watching Don out of the corner of his eye as he ambled down toward the front of the room, dropped into an empty chair, and sprawled out as far as the attached desk and neighboring chairs would allow.

Charlie turned away slightly to prevent smiling in response to Don's happy grin. He hadn't mentioned to Don that he was aware of the recent shift in Don's relationship with Terry. The last thing he wanted was for Don to think his little brother had been spying on them. He knew Don would tell him eventually. For now, it amused him to watch his brother acting like a lovesick fool and thinking no one noticed the change.

Charlie focused back on his conversation. Since it was clear this student was still having trouble with the concept he'd introduced during the lecture, he suggested she come by tomorrow during office hours and they'd review it together. Slightly mollified, she agreed. Charlie smiled encouragingly and began packing up his things, assuming Don would prefer to wait until she left before discussing whatever he'd dropped by to tell Charlie.

Sure enough, as soon as she walked out Don stood up and wandered over to Charlie. Don's grin was just as big as it had been when Charlie first spotted him in the back of the room.

"You seem to be in a good mood," Charlie commented.

Don shrugged and glanced away. Charlie shook his head and turned to erase the whiteboard, wondering when Don was going to admit what was going on with Terry.

"You know who else is in a good mood?" Don asked.

Charlie turned around, wondering if this was finally it.

"Alex," Don declared happily.

Okay, not the name he'd been expecting to hear. "Alex?" Charlie repeated.

Don nodded. "Yep, been in a good mood all week."

Charlie grimaced at the understatement. Alex had been crowing about his team's victory all week. Charlie had reached the point where he really wanted to hit the guy. Or at least see an instant replay of Terry knocking him flat. He wondered if anyone videotaped the game.

Pushing the thought aside, Charlie focused on why Don was bringing it up now. "Good enough to help you with that favor he was supposed to do for you?" Charlie guessed.

"Head of the class, Charlie." Don handed over a thick folder. As Charlie flipped through it, Don launched into a story. "So, about three months ago, I find out that my little brother does consulting work for the NSA. Pretty high-level stuff too. I mean, his clearance is higher than mine."

Don shot him an annoyed look and Charlie glanced up from the file to smirk in response. Don rolled his eyes and continued his story. "Anyway, it occurs to me that if I didn't know about it, then probably nobody else he's close to knew about it either. That he was doing, whatever he was doing, on his own. So, I talked to Amita."

Charlie's head flew up. "What? But you can't…"

Don held up a hand and continued. "I asked her if she'd be willing to go through a background check without knowing why. That it would take months, that they'd interview her family, friends, old employers – the works. I told her the questions could be intrusive, maybe even insulting. And at the end of it, if she didn't get clearance she'd never find out what it had all been about. But if she did get clearance, she'd be able to work with you on exciting new projects. Maybe open up her career to new opportunities. And you know what she said?"

Charlie looked up from the security file on Amita Ramanujan. "She said yes."

Don smiled.

Charlie shook his head. "I don't understand. A background check like this should take six months. Minimum." As the answer to his own question occurred to him, he continued, "Unless… you know someone who can do you a favor."

Don nodded. "Right. We didn't break any laws. She passed on her own. Alex just…"

"Made sure her file made it to the top of the list," Charlie finished.

Don shrugged. "I figured you could use a partner. It's important, you know? Having somebody to watch your back. To share the wins and the losses. It helps. But it's up to you two. If you don't want to involve her or she doesn't want to get involved, that's fine. At least now you've got the option."

"So, you mean I can discuss my work with her now?"

"Charlie, if you want her to, she can collaborate with you on the work. Or check your work. What do you call it? Peer review? She can have access to any project you bring her in on."

Charlie closed his eyes as the ramifications hit. It was the missing piece. Consulting with Don was so different than his work for the NSA. Don might yell, and push, and demand the impossible; but he also genuinely cared about him. And the longer they worked together, the more he allowed Charlie to let Amita and Larry and even Dad help out. When he worked for the NSA, Charlie always felt cut-off, alone.

He opened his eyes when he heard Don call out, "Hey, Amita. Fancy meeting you here."

"Yeah, it's not like I spend a lot of time here. In the _math_ building," she jokingly replied.

"Well, I should be going," Don announced. He nudged Charlie before starting for the door. "See ya around."

"Don!" Charlie called out. When Don turned around, Charlie didn't know quite what to say. "Thanks."

Don smiled and waved a hand dismissively before continuing his path out of the room. "Amita," he politely nodded as he passed her.

Amita smiled back at him and walked over to Charlie. "What was that about?" she asked.

Charlie looked at her and realized it was time he stopped treating her like a student and started treating her like a colleague. And maybe, like a partner. He wasn't sure where his relationship with Amita was headed. But keeping secrets from her didn't seem like a good way to find out. "Why don't you let me take you out to lunch? I'll tell you all about it."

Don reappeared in the doorway and called out, "Hey, Charlie! I challenged Alex to a rematch next week. You up for it?"

Charlie raised his eyebrows. "You ask him for any more favors?"

Don smiled. "Nope."

Charlie took his time as he pretended to consider the issue. "Nothing to lose?"

Don shifted and leaned against the doorway. "Nothing to lose," he promised.

"Count me in," Charlie replied with a smile.

Don groaned loudly. "No math jokes," he warned sternly as he pushed off the doorjamb. "And, you know, try to show up this time, huh?" he added in an annoyed tone.

Charlie sputtered. The pun was unintentional. And Don knew why he'd missed the last game. Before Charlie could voice his objections, Don was gone.

He turned to face Amita with an uneasy laugh. "He's not rea… Kidding! He's kidding!" He added a nonchalant wave of his hand, but one look at Amita's concerned expression told him he'd failed to convince her.

Charlie sighed and ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. But he couldn't help smiling as he heard a low whistling floating in from the hallway that sounded a lot like 'Secret Agent Man.'

THE END


End file.
